flash fiction, flashfiction, microfiction, short story, Uncategorized

One-Man-Band On The Run

maltings

I’m a oneman band, when the crowds are tough, a oneman marching band.  I’ve had more coins thrown at me by the afternoon cathedral drunks than dropped into my hat.  I’m an unloved oneman band.

The bass-drum’s my Achilles’ heel.  I’m old school, I don’t think it’s right to perform to backing tapes like seems to be the norm nowadays, but can I keep a beat? Can I fiddle!

I practice at home, foot, pedal, foot, pedal, ’til the neighbours bang on the walls.   They’re better percussionists than me, I should rope them into the act.

The precinct on a Saturday, rain curtaining off the eaves. A couple of Community Support officers look over as they pass, but they don’t seem too interested. Them and everyone else.

Can’t wait to go home today, before I mould.  My harmonica suddenly makes the most godawful squawk when I blow.  I blow harder.

Advertisements
Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s